


Liminal

by 3stir



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Background KuroFai in the beginning, Dream World Hijinks, F/M, Soft Pining, Tsubasa World Chronicle Hen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3stir/pseuds/3stir
Summary: He’s starting to appreciate those steadfast words that the Dimensional Witch had said to him, years and lifetimes and restarts ago.The universe is a small thing, to those who truly understand it.'Syaoran' walks home from a festival for lovers in yet another strange world. He tries not to miss Sakura, but the heartache is inevitable.
Relationships: Sakura | Tsubasa/Syaoran | Li Tsubasa
Kudos: 16





	Liminal

**Author's Note:**

> For the Feathers PDF Zine! Thank you for the opportunity, and I hope you enjoy this fic!

Lumeria is known for its celebrations of the Autumnal Equinox, and Syaoran could certainly see why. Amongst the city’s spiraling skyscrapers and its natural cliffside embankment, the waning sunset hits every glass structure and uneven rock with grace and splendor. The place lights up in faded pinks and waning oranges, in warmth and beauty for as far as he can see. The trees stand tall along the brick-lain streets, their girth and strength telling of their wisdom and age. Each is decorated with twine and lanterns that match the leaves threatening to fall at the first tell of winter winds.

Today is the penultimate day of the week-long festival. It’s the night of the Equinox itself, the height of the celebrations culminating until the sun touches the horizon in the morning. The significance is pronounced for lovers. All day, couples have travelled down the city streets with red ribbons around their wrists, linked together under the blessings of the harvest gods. There's a myth in this country that a true love’s kiss shared under the moonlight of the Equinox brings great fortune and happiness for the year to come. It attunes the very air with the magic of hope.

Kurogane had scoffed at the notion of luck and grace when their little family had arrived, just in time to partake in the massive month-long preparations. Fai’s eyes had glinted with their usual mischief, and Syaoran hadn’t been the least surprised to watch them attend the heights of the festival a little closer together. For her part, Mokona had accompanied Syaoran as her adorable inanimate plushie disguise. The two of them had enjoyed strange dishes that tickled their tongues, and Syaoran had tried his hand at a few art exhibits and games.

Surrounded by warmth in color and company, Syaoran lets himself enjoy every little happiness that wells up in his chest. Even when all the lovers in Lumeria gather together to have their fortunes told, to watch the rockets by the river and bask in one another, he’s content. Everything feels like it’ll work out in the end, despite his past mistakes and misgivings.

“They’re telling all of the children to go home!” Mokona says when the coast is clear. “Does that mean we have to go back, too?”

Syaoran smiles and rubs her head between her large rabbit-like ears, “Aren’t you tired? We’ve been at the festival since the sun rose this morning, and you’ve worn me out by going from booth to booth.”

Mokona hums thoughtfully, but they’re already walking down the path that leads to their lodgings, a simple loft near the center of town belonging to a low-level mage named Alicia Lohmeyer. A breeze floats between the branches of overhanging trees, and Syaoran breathes deeply at the cool touch against his temple. The loft will be left empty tonight in the wake of the celebrations. Maybe Syaoran can get a little reading done, of the books he’s reluctantly amassed from their year of non-stop travel.

He tries not to think about the people he wishes were here. He tries not to linger on the aching longing that has long grown familiar to the touch in his heart. Most happiness eventually fades into that ache these days, but Syaoran clings to this a little selfishly. There’s no use in wishing to share the festival with Kimihiro and the other Syaoran. There’s no point in wanting to spend the whole festival with Sakura by his side. Thoughts like that will just drag him down, and for as long as he needs to travel to absolve his sins, he needs to stay strong. So he keeps his shoulders steady and puts one foot in front of the other along the empty path back to Lohmeyer’s place.

“Oh! We can have mochi when we get back!” Mokona suddenly shouts into the fading twilight. The sudden shout startles Syaoran into jumping, but his nerves lighten as the statement reduces him to a pile of laughter.

No time to dwell on regrets when there’s mochi to be had.

The sky is dark by the time Syaoran makes it back to the cottage near the city center. The structure is a modest blend of different styles that he vaguely recognizes in pieces from other dimensions they had travelled. Dr. Lohmeyer had insisted the place was “rustic chic”, despite the blank stares she had received from her strange houseguests. Syaoran himself still doesn’t really understand it, but he can appreciate the way people shape and appropriate art and style no matter what world they’re in. It’s somewhat comforting, in its own way, that people will always see a similar beauty in the world around them. It doesn’t matter if it’s the grand tree-loving city of Lumeria or the post-apocalyptic remnants of an acid-drenched Tokyo.

He’s starting to appreciate those steadfast words that the Dimensional Witch had said to him, years and lifetimes and restarts ago.

_ The universe is a small thing, to those who truly understand it. _

Mokona tears into the box of mochi the moment Syaoran walks in the front door. She bounces gleefully down the dark hallway, singing a tune she’s been humming during their walk back. Her floppy ears fly to and fro as she jumps around the polished wood floor, and she sings her made-up mochi song without a care in the world.

He can barely eat the desserts with how much he’s grinning. Mokona dances happily on the empty countertop while he makes tea. It’s a little less lonely with the two of them here, sharing secrets about Kurogane’s and Fai’s mannerisms and habits. They agree on the beauty they’ve found in Lumeria, about the abundant nature that teems with an underlying magic. Mokona describes her favorite foods at the festival, and Syaoran tells of how relieved he is that everyone’s preparations have allowed the week to go smoothly.

The fireworks bloom in the distance with soft pops. Their lights flash in the kitchen window, bright and wonderful across the gray backdrop of the waning moon. The Equinox must be fast approaching, if they’ve already started the fireworks.

Mokona yawns after watching the display across the night sky for a few minutes, and Syaoran takes that as his cue to get them into bed. The festival should last well into the morning, but he wants to be there to help the others take down the booths and decorations from the shrine. Manual labor has always been soothing to him, the simplicity of starting and completing a task that wears at his muscles and drains him physically. And besides that, if he can help these kind people who took him in and celebrated with him like he was one of their own, he’ll repay their kindness without hesitation.

Take and give in all manners, especially in matters of the heart. He never wants to take any of this freedom for granted ever again.

He easily bundles Mokona in his arms and climbs up to their shared loft. The creature is asleep as soon as her side cradles into the crook of his elbow. It’s a familiar routine by now, and the stability grounds him so steadily in a life that’s constantly uprooted from one dimension to the next. He sets Mokona down gently on his extra pillow before quickly preparing for another night of restful, dreamless sleep.

Instead, when he next opens his eyes, he's in the familiar backyard of Kimihiro's shop.

The engawa and wooden fence glow softly against the void-like backdrop that replaces the sky. The strangeness leaves him a bit disoriented, even as he blinks fatigue out of his eyes. The air is cool as he draws a deep breath, but the feeling of clarity it brings in his lungs isn’t uncomfortable.

Suddenly, in the empty space of the engawa that hangs over the lawn, Kimihiro appears. His familiar form is draped in silks and ties, his kimono decorated with wisps of clouds and pale swan wings. He’s lounging against the wood with Yuuko’s pipe in hand, as if he’d always been there and would continue to forever stay.

Syaoran wants to reach out to this person closer to him than even a brother. He wants to ask what’s happening, wants to know if everything is alright…

Kimihiro gently nods his head across the lawn, behind Syaoran, with a very small and very fond smile.

Syaoran is reluctant to look away. Something about this place seems familiar, with its glowing life amongst the void. He’s been here before, he’s sure, and not in the way that he’s been to Kimihiro’s shop in that version of Tokyo. This is different, but it isn’t malicious. There’s no ill will swirling in the air, just a calm anticipation that Syaoran can’t quite place.

So he trusts this, and he turns to slowly look over his shoulder.

His breath catches.

Beneath the same sacred cherry blossom tree, she stands with her hands pressed in front of her chest in prayer. Her expressive green eyes slowly open as the wind teases through strands of her short hair.

Their eyes meet for the first time in so long. And then Syaoran is running.

His bare feet sink a little in the soft ground as he runs, as if the lawn is fresh from an early dew. His steps are cushioned lovingly, painstakingly, but he barely notices as he moves. The breeze at his back spurs him forward, toward her perfect, loving smile. In no time, he gathers her into his arms with a grip so tight he threatens bruising her bare shoulders with the weight of his desperation.

She giggles softly against his neck. The melody leaves his heart aflame.

“I miss you too, Syaoran,” she says into the backdrop of shaking leaves.

At that moment, Syaoran breaks. Just a little. Tears well up at the corners of his eyes as he buries his face in her hair. His breaths stutter once, then twice, while he tries to hold his rampant emotions in check. 

“Sakura,” he whispers. He doesn’t care that his voice breaks in the middle.

They fill their hearts with the feeling of each other as they embrace under the tree. The setting is such a simple, calm backdrop to the racing emotion spilling from Syaoran’s eye, from whispers along his lips. For too long he had resolutely insisted that he wouldn’t dwell on how much he misses his most precious person. He’d kept that yearning, that love, tampered in his soul, only showing in fleeing smiles and the errant wistful sigh.

Sakura shushes him gently, but not unkindly, even as her own tears bleed into Syaoran’s sleep shirt, “I’m so glad I get to see you, even if it’s only in our dreams.”

Syaoran chokes on an unexpectant laugh. The turn of phrase seems so surreal, too literal, when your beloved is a dreamseer.

“The Equinox?” he asks.

“Mmm,” she hums, “They aligned perfectly, in your world and Clow Country. Watanuki-kun helped, too.”

Syaoran’s senses flood with happiness. He reverently takes Sakura’s face in his hands and kisses her, ever so gently.

“Thank you,” he says when they pull away.

She smiles and pulls him back down for more. And he hopes this dream doesn’t end too soon.


End file.
